


Calm Me Down, Patch Me Up

by sainnis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Era, Caretaking, Crash Landing, Established Relationship, Heartbeats, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Blood, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Battle, Post-Episode: s02e08 The Blade of Marmora, Praise Kink, Purring Keith (Voltron), Soft Keith/Shiro (Voltron), They're both good boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27761950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainnis/pseuds/sainnis
Summary: Injured and waiting for a rescue when their Lions lose power after a battle, Shiro takes care of an adrenaline-fueled Keith, who has a little trouble calming down after a fight.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 76
Kudos: 274





	Calm Me Down, Patch Me Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoldenTruth813](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/gifts).



> I got the prompt "post battle mutual aftercare" from @GoldenTruth813 and this appeared in my brain nearly fully-formed. Thanks for helping me get over some writer's block with this excellent prompt and for encouraging me along the way! 💕 
> 
> I've been missing canon-era S2 established relationship sheith and this seemed like a perfect moment to let their mutual devotion and caretaking take center stage. Set less than a week after the events of BOM.
> 
> There's quite a few "good boys" in here. 😇

Shiro comes to on the floor of Black’s cockpit, missing only a handful of seconds. 

It’s not the crash that’s left her unresponsive. He felt her lose power at the end of the battle, a strange numbness spreading through her until all he could do was brace for impact. She’s still hovering at the back of his mind, and though her presence is muted, concern laces through her contact.

He tastes copper, licks his tongue over his bottom lip. It’s bleeding. Pushing himself up, he feels adrenaline washing through him, dulling pain that will surely show itself later. He’s grateful for the way his body protects him, albeit temporarily, because right now, he needs to find Keith.

Black’s residual systems spool out a thread of power to her sensors, letting Shiro know his cracked, useless helmet won’t be a problem. Wherever they’ve landed, there’s enough oxygen in the air to keep him conscious, though it’ll probably be a bit more like living at 10,000 feet. He uses the manual override to open the hatch, gracelessly climbing out of Black and onto a cold, tundra-like landscape. 

For a moment he’s afraid they’ve been thrown too far apart, that he’ll have to go in search of Red’s fallen form. He pulls off his cracked helmet, brushing his wrist over his lip to wipe off the dried blood he can feel prickling there. A sudden memory rises of the two of them by a fire, hoping for a miracle, of him clutching his side and murmuring about Keith taking over. He still believes that, because if nothing else, that particular crash landing proved that Black trusts Keith, to say nothing of how much Shiro does.

There’s no one in the universe he trusts more than Keith.

Red’s lying on her side nearby, her head tipped to the side like she’s puzzling over something. The last thing Shiro wants to do right now is run, but his desire to see Keith has become a need, more present than his lungfuls of low-oxygen air. He sprints over the rocky ground, ignoring the aches knotting around his ribs as he makes it to Red’s side. He calls out Keith’s name, trying to get him on comms, but all he gets is static; his helmet must have been damaged.

He knows Red can’t hiss or recoil while she’s this low on energy, but he pictures her like that anyway, a big cat with a painful wound, batting away anyone who would try to help. She and Keith are a lot alike, especially the way Keith was when Shiro met him. He’d get his back up in seconds if you tried to show kindness or care, at least until he knew you weren’t offering out of pity or manipulation. It had taken Shiro a long time to earn that. It never surprised him that Red would find Keith to be her perfect pilot.

He manages to get her hatch open and clambers inside. Red smells different than Black, even though she’s barely online, she acknowledges his arrival with a low grunt, a grind of metal on metal. “Keith!” he calls out, climbing inside the cockpit. “You okay?”

The pilot seat’s empty. His breath catches, scanning the space, and finally lands on Keith, who’s climbing shakily to his feet, clutching his right arm to his chest. His helmet’s gone, and a smear of blood mars his cheek. He looks up, relief softening his features. “What’s up, beautiful?”

Shiro crosses the space in two steps, wrapping his arms around Keith’s slim shoulders and pulling him close. “Keith,” he murmurs against his hair.

“Shiro.” For a long moment, there’s just the sound of their panting breaths mingling with the soft hiss of air ventilation, the press of Keith’s body each time he inhales. Warmth radiates through his armor, every bit as fiery as his lion. 

Keith’s head is tucked against Shiro’s chestplate, his right arm dangling at his side and his left squeezing tight around Shiro’s waist. His voice is ragged when he says, “Your heart’s pounding.”

Whether it’s Keith’s Galra genes that allow him to hear it or that paladin armor conducts sound better than he thought, Shiro’s not sure, but Keith’s right; he can feel the beats thrumming inside his ribcage. “Ran to get to you. I was worried.” 

“About me?” Keith sounds a little surprised. It makes Shiro’s stomach twist to think that Keith’s default setting is to assume others aren’t concerned about him. 

“God, yes.” He presses a kiss to Keith’s crown. “You took the worst of it. I tried to shield you, but they just kept coming. I lost count of how many times you and Red got hit.” Flashes of the battle strobe in his mind and he forcibly shuts them out. He just wants to focus on Keith, his living, breathing Keith. 

“She and I are made of tough stuff.” Keith’s one-armed grip around Shiro tightens. “Besides, I’ve got good reasons to make it out alive.” He tips his chin up, meeting Shiro’s eyes, and then surges forward, kissing him with more force than Shiro expects. Shifting his weight, he slides his hands up Keith’s back, gasping a breath between parted lips as Keith dives in for more. There’s nothing soft about this kiss--it’s all tongues and teeth and pressure and fire--the heat of it pooling in Shiro’s stomach.

When Keith finally pulls back, he’s breathing fast, his grin sharp. “I’d fight for days if I got kisses like that at the end.”

Shiro shakes his head a little as he pulls off his left gauntlet. He wants to touch him without any Altean armor between them. After pressing a light kiss to Keith’s sweaty bangs, he traces his fingertips along Keith’s damp throat, feeling him swallow. “You can have them without the fight, you know.” 

“Then I’d like more.”

“You can always--” Shiro stops, suddenly aware of the frantic beating under his fingers. He’s no medic, but he’s never felt a pulse so fast in his life. Maybe Keith’s a lot more hurt than he lets on. Fear coils in Shiro’s gut. “Keith, you should sit, your heart rate is really high.” He keeps one hand on Keith’s throat and the other turns Keith’s left forearm up, tapping the panel to reveal the embedded vitals monitor in his paladin armor. It flashes _212_. “Shit, that can’t be right--”

“Hey. I’m okay.” Keith gives a rough laugh as he glances down at the number. “Don’t freak out. It’s, um, a Galra thing. Kolivan told me. Our hearts kinda can go super fast during stress and we take a little longer to calm down. So that explains yet another weird thing about me I didn’t understand. It’s normal, apparently.” He snorts. “If anything about me is normal.”

“I like everything about you,” he says, relief flooding him. Shiro wonders how many times this must have happened to Keith growing up, the stress of fighting sending him into a rush that wouldn’t stop. It’s why Keith went to the training deck at night, he realizes. Why he struggled sometimes at the Garrison. All Shiro wants to do is press his palm over Keith’s heart and breathe with him until it slows, but he doesn’t think Keith will go for that right now. “You’re sure you’re all right? You’re not feeling faint or anything?”

“Promise. It’ll settle down once the adrenaline shakes off.” Keith reaches up to brush his thumb along Shiro’s hairline. “Shiro, you’re bleeding.”

Shiro echoes the movement along Keith’s cheek. “You are, too.” Keith’s smile doesn’t fade, but Shiro sees how tightly he’s holding his spine, how he favors his right shoulder, barely moving his arm. “What’s hurting?”

“I told you, I’m okay.” Keith takes a faltering step back, but Shiro moves with him.

“Alive and okay are two different things.”

Keith rolls his eyes before lifting up Shiro’s forelock. “Says the man who’s got blood under his floof.”

The thin sound of static rises from the corner of the cockpit, followed by Allura’s voice, nearly lost in distortion. “...ou hear me? Ke…there?”

Shiro moves to pick up Keith’s fallen helmet, trying not to wince at the jagged cracks in the face shield. “Princess! We’re here. Do you copy?”

There’s more static, and then a slightly clearer transmission. “...there we go! Shiro, we’re locked on your signal. We can’t get to you yet. Some type of energy pulse knocked out the castle when it hit the lions. It might take a varga or two to get back online. Are you and Keith all right?”

“Just a little banged up. We’ll be okay. Is everyone else all right?”

“...losing…be there…hold on…” Static crackles over the connection before it’s swallowed up in silence. 

Shiro sets the helmet down carefully. “Well. Guess we’ve got a little time.” He taps Red’s pilot seat. “Why don’t you sit down and I can patch you up a little?”

Keith sniffs. “Maybe _you_ should sit down so I can patch _you_ up.”

Shiro sighs, returning to Keith’s side. “You can’t move your arm.”

“I can.” Keith grimaces as he struggles to lift his right forearm, his fingers trembling. “See? Not broken.” He releases it with a hushed _fuck_. 

“Come on. We’re finding the medkit. Let’s go.” He puts his hand on Keith’s back, steering him towards the cabin. It makes something inside him shiver when Keith _lets_ him, allows himself to be guided back towards the small, private quarters each Paladin has inside their Lion. 

Shiro settles Keith on the edge of the bed. He’s flushed, cheeks bright under the aqua-filtered light inside Red. “Let me help you take your armor off, yeah?”

Keith’s mouth twitches. “What if this whole thing has been a ploy for me to get you to take it off?”

“Oh, yeah? You staged a battle and downed our Lions just for this?” He’s careful as he undoes the seams around Keith’s shoulders, the armor releasing with a soft hiss. 

“I’m just saying you’re hot as fuck and--” Keith stops, holding a breath as Shiro removes the armor from his right arm. He’s rigid, finally exhaling through clenched teeth. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Shiro drops his voice, gently pulling away the armor as quickly as he can. “There we go.” 

“Shit.” Something almost like a gasp shakes out of Keith. 

“Hey,” Shiro says, squeezing Keith’s knee. “It’s me. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

Keith’s eyes are shut as his chin drops a little in a nod. “I know. I know.” He drags in another tremulous breath. “So used to it. With everyone else. I’m trying to remember. It’s different with you.”

“You’re doing so good,” Shiro says softly, pressing a kiss to the knuckles of his left hand. 

“Shiro.” Keith leans forward, slipping his good hand around the back of Shiro’s neck. “Kiss me for real.”

Shiro’s lips tug back in a smile. “All my kisses are real,” he’s able to say before Keith’s mouth crashes against his, the grip on the back of his neck dragging him closer until Shiro’s knee wedges between Keith’s legs.

This kiss is different from the first; it’s more desperate, and the needy sounds that rise from Keith’s throat are doing something to Shiro’s ability to regulate his own breathing. Keith’s nipping at his bottom lip before diving back in, the slick slide of his tongue against the roof of Shiro’s mouth sending heat straight to his dick. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Don’t stop,” Keith groans, tipping his head to the side and giving Shiro full access to his flushed throat, which Shiro can’t help but start kissing. Under his lips, Keith’s pulse keeps thrumming so fast that Shiro’s reminded of hummingbirds. His brain likes to throw scientific facts like this at him at inopportune moments, and he remembers that their hearts can beat over 1,000 times a minute. The first time he kissed Keith, he started thinking about jet propulsion engines, about breaking the sound barrier. 

He needs to stop thinking.

He focuses instead of the way Keith’s fingers grip the back of his neck, on how his own palm is pressed against Keith’s chest, feeling the quick gulps of air going into his lungs, the tattoo of his heartbeat. The lean muscle of Keith’s thighs press against Shiro’s, even through their armor, and the urge to get Keith naked and worship his body the way he deserves is all-consuming. His kisses turn into outright sucking over Keith’s collarbone, and the way his body melts under Shiro’s mouth is so stunning that he nearly gasps. 

Dimly he’s aware of the parts of his own body that are starting to hurt, even as Keith seeks out his lips again, but he’s pretty sure he got away easier this time; he knows that if he was bleeding a lot he’d feel the effects by now. Their kisses turn softer, and Shiro realizes that Keith’s not pulling at him anymore; he’s leaning on him for support now. He wonders if his adrenaline is finally dropping.

He finally pulls away, pitching his voice low. There’s nothing fragile about Keith--he flies like he was born in the air, his strength pure tenacity and will--and yet, all Shiro wants to do is wrap him in his arms and keep him safe. “You still with me?”

Keith gives a soft groan. “Yeah.” When he looks up, there’s a tightness around his eyes, a shift in his breathing to something shallow.

“The pain’s coming on, huh?” Shiro says, cradling Keith’s cheek.

“A little.”

“You mind if I look at your arm?” Shiro asks, and Keith nods, mouth thin. He retrieves the medkit and places it next to them on the bed before he undoes the fasteners at the neck of Keith’s undersuit. His movements are slow and careful as he releases the tight fabric from around Keith’s neck, pulling the suit away from his shoulders and chest and down his wiry arms.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Shiro breathes, trying not to grimace. 

He hates the Blades of Marmora for putting Keith through the trials, even though they’ve more than proven their allyship. Perhaps in time he’ll feel differently in time, but it’s barely been a week and at the moment, all he can remember is Keith trembling, bleeding under that damned suit, the way he shied away from touch on the trip back to the Castle Ship simply because everything hurt so much. Shiro understands awaking Keith’s blade might not have happened under other circumstances, that a physical scenario needed to take place, but they could have blunted their fucking weapons. Keith nearly _died_. 

He seethes when he sees the livid wound on Keith’s shoulder, still not properly healed. Blood leaks from the edges, trailing down Keith’s skin in dark rivulets, tracking over his lean chest. New bruises, presumably from the crash, wash his shoulder and bicep in harsh pink, already turning purple in some places. Shiro’s stomach clenches. Keith shouldn’t be fighting; he should be recovering. He curses himself for not getting them to a safer corner of the universe for a few more days. Then again, he hasn’t found a safe corner yet.

Keith sighs. “It’s not that bad.”

Shiro takes a breath to steady himself as he pulls out an antibacterial wipe. Coran did his best to attend to Keith after the trials, but clearly his injuries keep getting reopened. “I think,” he says carefully, “when we get back to the Castle, you should do a little time in the healing pods.”

Keith’s eyes widen. He looks a little paler than he did when Shiro arrived. “We don’t need to do that.”

Whatever the wipes are treated with, they don’t sting when applied to wounds, and Shiro’s grateful as he cleans the edges of the laceration. “I, um, know a few things about what happens when wounds don’t heal right,” he says, his voice as gentle as his movements. “I don’t want you to suffer like I have.”

Keith’s throat bobs. “Allura…she said the,” he stops, swallowing hard enough that Shiro can hear it. “The pods won’t work for me.”

“They do now.” Shiro looks in the medkit for the hemostatic powder. He’s done extra rounds of first aid training with Coran, more than the others. “I talked with her and Coran about that. They’ve been recalibrated to work with your DNA.” He drops his chin. “I’m sorry I didn’t know how hurt you still were.”

“Galra heal fast,” Keith says, his voice quiet. There’s still so much to unpack, Shiro knows, about Keith and his heritage and what it all means. He glances down at his shoulder. “Honestly, I didn’t want you to know.” 

“Just because I’m proud of you for being brave and awed by your ass-kicking skills doesn’t mean I don’t get that you went through hell during those trials.” He leans in, finding a way to pull Keith close that won’t bump his wounds. “You’re still my Keith and I need to know if you’re okay. It’s the only way I can get through this, all these fucking battles. I need you.” He squeezes Keith’s uninjured shoulder. “If something were to happen to you,” he stops, not even wanting to give voice to his fears. 

Keith’s expression softens a little. “You’re that worried about me?”

“Like you don’t think the same thing where I’m concerned.” Shiro kisses the spot between Keith’s furrowed eyebrows. 

“Valid.”

Shiro gives a soft laugh. “We all know your speciality is saving my ass.”

“As many times as it takes.” A smile tugs at Keith’s mouth.

Shiro never gets tired of those words, never gets tired of how deep his affection for Keith runs, how easy it is to love him. He wants to say that, but somehow the words don’t quite come. Instead he says, “You do know you’re my favorite person in the universe, don’t you?”

A faint blush rises on Keith’s cheeks. “You’re mine, too, Shiro.”

“We have good taste.” He picks up the container of hemostatic powder, suddenly realizing that Keith’s still hurt and he’s not doing a great job as a makeshift medic. “Even more reason for me to stop your bleeding. This works pretty well, but just as a fair warning,” Shiro says, his tone apologetic. “Um, Coran did mention this might burn a bit.”

Keith doesn’t blink. “I trust you.”

With the wound cleaned, it’s easy to see where it’s still bleeding. If they were back on Earth, Keith would definitely need antibiotics, or maybe even a surgical repair, but they’ve never been farther from home and Shiro’s grateful he has a small way to help Keith until they can get back to the Castle of Lions. “Don’t move, okay?”

Keith’s gaze is steady on Shiro’s face as he starts applying the powder, making sure to spread it evenly over his torn skin. A few seconds later, Keith’s mouth presses together, clearly in pain, but he’s still as stone under Shiro’s hand, unflinching. He’s so strong, so brave, and it makes Shiro’s lungs ache. 

“Good boy,” he says softly, cupping Keith’s chin with his metal fingers. 

Keith’s eyes flutter shut, leaning more heavily against Shiro’s palm. Suddenly, a quiet sound starts up, one that Shiro’s only heard on a few occasions, during the rare nights when the klaxon stays quiet and they’ve been able to share a bed and curl up beside each other. The reverberations echo through Keith’s chest, their pitch rising and falling and slightly with his breath. He’s only ever known Keith to purr when he’s feeling safe or content, and the situation they’re in right now doesn’t seem like it fits either description. 

“Is the...the purring because you’re hurt?” 

Keith shakes his head. “No.” 

“Is everything okay?” Shiro hesitates. “I just haven’t heard you purr before when you weren’t sleepy or like right after--”

“M’okay.” 

“So the purring is just…happening.”

A little sigh shakes out of Keith, making his purr rumble in his ribcage. He opens his eyes, the flush back over his face. “It’s...what you said.”

Shiro starts applying a gel bandage over the wound. “What did I say?” He goes back over their conversation in his mind. “All I did was tell you to hold still and then--” He freezes. “ _Oh._ When I called you _good boy_?”

The purr deepens and Keith looks mortified. “I don’t have any control over this, it just happens, I didn’t mean--”

“You like it when I tell you you’re good?” A slow smile spreads over Shiro’s face. 

Keith’s breathing sharpens. Now that he no longer has to hold still, Shiro can see a slight tremble to his shoulders. When he answers, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

“Baby.” Shiro can’t help but press a kiss against his mouth. “My perfect boy. So brave. So good.”

His purring revs up again. “The things you say.”

“I mean them, too.” Shiro squeezes Keith’s knee through his armor. “How’s your pain?”

Keith’s not always reliable when it comes to this question, but he lifts his good hand and rocks it side to side. “I’ll live.”

“There’s some space pain drugs in here.” He pulls out a small hypospray from the medkit. “It might help since we’re going to be waiting a while.”

Keith looks at the canister suspiciously. “Is it like space Advil or like space morphine? I don’t need anything hardcore.”

“Coran said it can cause a little drowsiness, but nothing too extreme.” 

He frowns. “If we have to fight, I don’t want to be slowed down by meds.”

“Fair enough, but not being able to move your right arm’s gonna slow you down, too.” Shiro raises his eyebrows, holding up the canister. “I don’t love seeing you in this much pain, sweetheart.”

Keith’s purr dips as he exhales. “Okay. For you. But only because it’s bothering you.”

Standing up, Shiro carefully angles Keith’s neck a little to the side to line up the hypospray with his carotid artery, which isn’t flashing under his skin quite as fast as it had been a few minutes ago. “Just stay still a sec. This won’t hurt.” He presses the button and the medication deploys in a soft hiss. “There you go. So good for me.”

A soft half-smile curves Keith’s mouth. His purr is quieter now, but still a present hum behind their conversation. “I can’t believe you talked me into that.” He rubs at his neck, even though the hypospray doesn’t break skin. “What if this makes me like those videos from back home, you know, like the wisdom teeth ones?”

“If you get a little silly, I won’t tell a soul.” Shiro cleans the superficial cut on Keith’s cheek, putting a bit of gel protectant over it to keep it clean and help it heal faster. “Anything else bleeding?”

“Nope.” Keith reaches out to lift up Shiro’s hair. “Just you.”

“Oh. Right.” He’d forgotten about his own small injury. “I can get it. It’s no big deal.”

Keith scoffs, sounding scandalized. “It’s your _face_. Your gorgeous _face_.”

“It’s my forehead, which is covered by hair.”

“If you think for one second I’m going to just lie down and chill while you’re still technically bleeding actual blood, then you’ve got another thing coming.” He tugs on Shiro’s wrist. “Sit down while I make sure you don’t get sepsis or something.”

Shiro complies, bumping Keith’s thigh with his knee as he sits on the bed. “You gonna kiss it and make it better?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not medically advised.” He snorts, lifting up Shiro’s forelock with his good hand. “Hold this out of the way, would you?”

Shiro does, watching how carefully Keith cleans his cut and applies the protectant. Even though he’s injured and only able to move his left arm, he’s gentle and capable, his pretty mouth set in concentration. When he’s done, he leans forward and smooches Shiro’s temple. “There’s your kiss.”

“I can’t believe you’re worried about a tiny little cut while you’re genuinely injured.” Shiro pats the mattress. “You should be good for me and lie down.”

Keith’s purr rattles a bit as he wheezes. “That’s not fair.”

“Well, I am _not_ a good boy, so I’m not above a little manipulation.” 

_”Shiro.”_

“What? I just want you to rest.” He undoes his armor, pulling away the pieces above the waist, leaving only his undersuit. “I’ll sweeten the deal, though.” Scooching back a bit, he reclines back on the bed. “Lie down with me.” Keith only hesitates for a second before he moves up on the mattress, curling on his left side next to Shiro. “You wanna get closer?” 

As soon as Shiro lifts his arm, Keith nuzzles underneath, and Shiro guides his head until it’s pillowed on Shiro’s chest. Keith’s warm against him, always so warm, and the weight of him pressed against Shiro is so comforting that he can’t help but sigh.

“Is this to relax you or me, big boy?” Keith asks.

“I don’t know, baby,” Shiro says, kissing the top of Keith’s hair. “Maybe both.”

Keith’s quiet for a long moment, and his purr, which had gone dormant, starts up again. “I like this. Having you this close. Hearing your heartbeat. Feels nice.” 

“Yeah?”

Keith nods, his injured arm pulled up against his body. “You’re warm and cozy. And big.”

Shiro’s fingers weave through Keith’s hair, dragging gently along his scalp. “Is that medicine working for you?”

A snort rises from him, muffled by Shiro’s ribcage. “Yeah. Little bit.” His purr is strong enough for Shiro to feel it through his undersuit. It’s a sensation that Shiro can’t get enough of and he tries to memorize how it feels, the way it soothes over his skin.

“Good.” He strokes Keith’s hair again. “Good boy.”

Keith groans a little, but it doesn’t sound like pain this time. “Hey,” he says, pausing for a moment. “You like that, too.”

“Like what?”

“Your breathing hitched when you called me _good boy_. You’re into it.” Keith pokes lightly against Shiro’s ribs. “And now your heart’s speeding up.” 

A little laugh shakes out of him. “If you’re asking if I like praising what’s mine, the answer is yes.”

“Shiro.” Keith chokes, cutting off his purr for a beat. 

“I mean, I’m yours, too, right?”

“Yeah.” Keith presses his face a little harder against Shiro’s chest. “Mine.” 

He kisses Keith’s forehead, trying to savor this small moment of peace and privacy. “If I started telling you everything about you that I’m into, we’d be here for hours. Days.” He lets out a soft sound. “You, Keith Kogane, are praiseworthy.”

“You, Takashi Shirogane, are a hopeless romantic.”

“Damn right.”

Keith reaches for Shiro’s prosthetic and presses a kiss to metal knuckles. “I guess I am, too. And it’s all your fault.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame.” 

Keith’s silent for a few minutes and for a moment, if Shiro closes his eyes, he can almost imagine them in bed back on Earth, as if they just crashed after lounging and watching Netflix. He strokes Keith’s wrist, letting his fingers settle over the pulse, relieved to find it back to a regular rhythm. It makes a little pride rise in him, the idea that being close to him can help Keith calm down. He wants to be that safe harbor for him, to be for Keith what he is for Shiro. 

The quiet lingers and Shiro wonders if he’s fallen asleep until suddenly Keith takes a long breath, letting it out slowly. “I dreamed about this for so long and it’s real now. You’re real, and you’re here, and I got you back.”

Shiro lifts Keith’s wrist to his mouth, kissing over the pulse. “I dreamed about you, too.”

Keith clears his throat, lifting his head a little. “No one is ever taking this away from us, you hear me? I don’t care if they have space magic or druid lasers or a fucking Death Star.” Keith’s voice gets a little shaky, but whether it’s from the meds or emotion, Shiro’s not sure, but it’s sweet nonetheless. “When this is over, we fly away together. You and me.” 

“You and me.” He cuddles Keith a little closer, careful not to bump his shoulder. 

“Promise?”

There’s nothing Shiro’s more certain of. “I promise.”

Keith grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers, his purr echoing in Red’s cabin. “Good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm on tw @ starlitruns


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